


It's Too Dangerous

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Spoilers for season one episode 2 - Sleight of Hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:58:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3663030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm revisiting one of my fave episodes. So there are spoilers in here for those of you that have never seen it.<br/>I've done other stories on this theme either as a standalone or entwined in one of my series.<br/>But for some reason felt the need to do it again. Then onto Spies and Assassins (grins).</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Too Dangerous

  
_Outside of the tunnels_

Athos remembered his words of warning to d’Artagnan at Bonacieuxs’. They came back to haunt him as he watched the boy before him swaying back and forth near Vadim’s dead body. This whole assignment had been against his better judgment. But Treville thought it a sound plan with of course d’Artagnan agreeing as the lad wanted to prove his worth to the captain. The risk to d’Artagnan had been great, and Athos was just happy that the youngster wasn’t laying beside Vadim just as dead. This had been too damn dangerous!

“Easy, lad,” Porthos was ready to catch the whelp in his arms and carry him back to the garrison any minute. Seeing how pale d’Artagnan appeared didn’t sit well with him as the boy turned slightly dazed eyes his way. Grabbing d’Artagnan’s chin in his hand, Porthos could tell the pup wasn’t completely tracking him with his eyes. “Aramis,” he whispered. “Think ya better have a look at im’.”

Stepping up closer to their youngest, Aramis’ hand went to the back of d’Artagnan’s head and came away with his fingers freshly coated in the boy’s blood. “Merde!” Hatred for the thief filled him as Aramis looked away from d'Artagnan to gaze momentarily at Vadim’s body. “You’ve got a nice sized lump back there aside from the bloody wound which I’m going to have to stitch up soon,” Aramis caught Athos’ darkening features out of the corner of his eye. “D’Artagnan,” he placed his hand on the youngster’s arm, “exactly how close to the explosion were you?” He could tell the pup didn’t want to tell any of them as d’Artagnan’s face scrunched up with worry, and his expressive eyes avoided all of theirs. That in itself was a telling gesture. But just when he was going to call d'Artagnan on it Aramis felt Athos brush past him to stand beside their young one.

“Look at me,” Athos commanded gruffly. He was at the end of his patience with this whole hellish affair. “Aramis asked you a question, d’Artagnan,” he placed his hand on the side of the boy’s face turning it toward him. “Be so good as to answer the man.”

“Quite close,” d’Artagnan whispered and peeked through his bangs at Aramis’ concerned expression.

“Elaborate for the ones that were not with you, s’il vous plait.” Aramis folded his arms and concentrated on d’Artagnan who was still swaying to and fro rather precariously.

“Vadim had me knocked out and later when I woke up I found myself in a room tied to explosives,” d’Artagnan winced as he heard Athos swear loudly. “I barely got out of there when the world turned suddenly white and I felt a whoosh of hot air throw me halfway across the passageway,” he reluctantly admitted.

“Bloody hell!” Porthos shouted. “Ya escaped bein’ blown to tiny bits by that rotter by the skin of your teeth, whelp!”

“Could you tone it down, Porthos?” d’Artagnan rubbed at his temples. “My head’s killing me.”

“Can you walk on your own?” Athos had been waiting for d’Artagnan to pass out any minute but was impressed that the boy had not done so.

All three men waited for the lad’s answer. When it came, it wasn’t with words but with actions as d’Artagnan literally collapsed at their feet.

“Aw damn it to hell and back!” Porthos swore viciously. “I’ve been waitin’ for the pup ta do that long before now.” Bending down he gently lifted the boy into his arms. “Mis, do we go ta the infirmary or d’Artagnan’s place?”

“Madame Bonacieux would probably take us all to task for the poor shape d’Artagnan’s in,” Athos mused to his comrades.

“That fair lady may just slap me yet again,” Aramis grinned in anticipation.

“Aramis,” Athos smiled tightly, “you are the only man of my acquaintance that loves being slapped by a woman. Why is that?”

“It’s the violence of the action that thrills me,” Aramis’ eyes twinkled while he heard Porthos groaning in the background.

“Hey! Could we get a move on? The kid’s gettin’ heavy,” Porthos growled.

“My apartments are the closest,” Athos offered. “We’ll take d’Artagnan there where Aramis can treat him.”

++++

_Athos' apartment_

“Well how’s our petite chiot doin’, Mis?” Porthos had been watching Aramis patch d’Artagnan up for the better part of an hour while Porthos pretended to play cards with Athos. He knew his mind hadn’t been on the game when his Athos managed to beat him twice in a row. Though, truth be told, Athos knew most of Porthos' tricks and wouldn't allow him to get away with anything like that anyway.

“I’ve treated the head wound and bandaged it up the best I could,” Aramis’ eyes narrowed as he stared at d’Artagnan’s torn wrists. “I made a poultrice to draw out the pain from the damaged skin and wrapped it well,” he rubbed at his forehead. “With luck d’Artagnan will still be able to hold a blade properly.” And that’s when Aramis heard a loud crash that startled him and Porthos both.

Walking up to the bed, Athos stared down at the still unconscious boy. If d’Artagnan hadn’t shredded his wrists getting away from those explosives, Athos would have been attending their young one's funeral. “We’re all the famille d’Artagnan has left!” he shouted as he faced his brothers. “Tell me why we agreed this was a good plan to go with!”

Shrugging, Aramis didn’t have a proper answer to appease his angry friend.

“It was the only viable plan the captain had at the time,” Porthos pointed out while shuffling his deck of cards.

“The child’s promising but a raw, untried talent yet,” Athos huffed. “He should never have been considered for this undercover assignment.”

“Yet he was, my fre’re,” Aramis went over to wash his hands in a clean basin of water.

Seeing the boy finally stirring, Athos sat on the edge of the bed waiting for d’Artagnan to awaken. When the pup did, Athos was rewarded with a pair of tired brown eyes blinking up at him. “Comment allez-vous?”

“Like I was caught in an explosion,” d’Artagnan heard a bark of laughter to his right and slowly turned his aching head to encounter Porthos’ amused face.

“I wish I could find this as entertaining as you, Porthos.” D’Artagnan hurt in places that had no right to be aching as he listened to Porthos' snort.

“Ah!” Aramis exclaimed as he walked back over to d’Artagnan’s side. “Tres bon. It’s nice to see you awake at last."

“I see you’ve been busy while I've been out of things, Aramis,” d’Artagnan held up both wrists as he studied the wrappings around them. “Merci,” he smiled.

“Oh don’t thank me,” Aramis huffed, waving his hand in the air. “I’m not the one that got nearly blown up.”

“Yeah,” Porthos grunted. “None of us wanted to be the ones ta tell Madame Bonacieux that her new boarder had died already without payin' his rent.”

“Very comforting, Porthos,” d’Artagnan tried to sit up but it was a struggle until Aramis lent him a hand. Settled against a pile of pillows d'Artagnan encountered his mentor's stern face and sighed. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you will never volunteer for such a thing again until you’ve been properly trained,” Athos started to stand up but was prevented by the boy’s tight grip on Athos’ arm.

“I’ve caused you great distress,” d’Artagnan’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Apologies,” he bent his head, ashamed for the worry d'Artagnan had caused his fellow brothers... especially Athos.

“Athos is used to it by now, pup,” Porthos laughed. “Aramis and I _distress_ the great man on a daily basis.”

Smiling ruefully at Porthos' apt remark, Athos observed d’Artagnan’s bruised face more closely. He had seen most of the lad’s upper torso when Aramis had removed d’Artagnan’s shirt to check for other injuries. The boy will be sporting a colorful array of bruises for some time to come. “I have informed Treville that you’ll report to him after you've had a decent amount of time to give your body a chance to heal."

“It was all a trick,” d’Artagnan murmured, more to himself than to the others, “to make us look in an entirely different direction.” Glancing at the three inseperables, d’Artagnan had no idea if he could ever hope to be like them. At this moment he doubted himself and felt like a huge failure. “Vadim never believed me. Right from the very beginning it seems.”

“Things turned all right in the end though!” Porthos crowed. “That’s what counts, boyo.”

“I suppose,” d’Artagnan grimaced. “Well I didn’t prove anything to anybody with this assignment,” he remarked dismally as he held out his wrists, “except to show how adept I am at getting myself hurt and nearly killed into the bargain.”

“Oh the stories I could tell you of some of our own misadventures, mon ami,” Aramis laughed, while Porthos appeared chagrined and Athos glowered.

“Please do not!” Athos snapped at his brother-in-arms.

“Eh, it’ll lighten the lad’s spirit to hear his heroes have feet of clay too,” Porthos grinned and winked at the boy. Thinking that perhaps that would be the best medicine for d'Artagnan.

“ _Heroes_?” d’Artagnan played the innocent as his lips quirked upward. “Did I ever once say you three were my _heroes_?” A small smiled played about his lips until suddenly d’Artagnan gave a large yelp as the inseperables laid siege on his helpless body.

Needless to say that when Captain Treville walked into the room he wasn’t the least surprised to see his three finest soldiers holding a pillow fight with the boy, while d’Artagnan whined about being wounded and to treat him gently. Shaking his head, Treville went out the way he came in wondering how life had changed the moment d’Artagnan had entered their lives.

The End

Post Work


End file.
